


Nothing Is Worse

by thisiswherethefishlives



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Getting Together, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Nothing is worse than when someone who’s supposed to love you just leaves.”— Ava Dellaira, Love Letters to the Dead</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mack’s tugging the zipper of his suitcase close when his door slams open behind him. Eyes focused below on his luggage, he forces himself to remain calm - to remain still. 

Anything that Fitz has to say at this point? It can’t hurt him. Mack’s made sure of it… 

After witnessing the fall of two separate SHIELDs, he’s become his own worst critic - he should never have betrayed Coulson’s team… he should have been up front with Fitz about his feelings from the beginning… he should have known better.

“Coulson just told me. How can you just leave? How can you leave us?!”

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Mack turns to his desk so that he can work on boxing up his books and nick-knacks.

“It’s time for me to go, Fitz. I don’t belong here anymore, and it’s no use pretending otherwise.”

There’s a beat of silence filled only by the scratch of his paperbacks against the cardboard sides of the packing box. Of course, it’s too much to hope that the conversation would just end. Fitz has never known when to leave things alone.

“It’s one thing to betray us when you think you’re working for the greater good, but we need you now. You can’t leave the team when we need you most, you just can’t.  _I_  need you.”

…

Mack had been wrong. Fitz was still capable of twisting the knife that’s already been wedged so deep. The idea that Fitz needs him now… it’s got his blood spitting inside his head and his hands fisting unconsciously. 

“You don’t need me. You’ve got Simmons back, and you’re doing well with your hand-eye coordination and with your words.” Turning around to face the engineer, Mack forces himself to make eye contact with Fitz. It hurts. It all hurts, and the idea that Fitz is even half as effected is laughable. “You’ve made your feelings about me very clear, Fitz… and I can’t stand here and listen to you accuse me of bailing when it feels like you bailed on me first.”

He’s still staring at Fitz when the first tear falls down the other man’s cheek. 

“Mack, I…” 

Before Mack’s very eyes, he sees Fitz lose his words for the first time in what feels like forever. He sees the panic in Fitz’s eyes and the way that he tries to catch at the words with his hands. It’s desperate, and for the first time Mack doesn’t have the wherewithal to help him figure it out.

He turns back to his boxed up books, folding the flaps of the box down before adding it to the small pile of his belongings at the foot of the bed. Looking around the room, it’s been stripped of every sign that Mack ever lived there, and there’s something cleansing about that. It doesn’t feel good… but it feels right that once Mack’s gone it will be like he was never there at all. The team will move on without a second thought, if Coulson’s reaction was any indication, and the room will be filled by someone else.

“I’m sorry.”

Fitz’s voice cracks under the weight of those two, tiny words, and Mack has to stop himself from pulling Fitz into his arms to better comfort him. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Fitz had made it clear before how he felt about Mack… and Mack wasn’t about to make himself feel better by forcing his comfort onto someone that didn’t really need it.

Forcing himself to smile before bending down to grab his meager belongings - a duffle, a rolling suitcase, and of course the single box of books - Mack squares his shoulders before looking Fitz resolutely in the eye.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Fitz… not from you, at least. You’re better now, and I’m not the person you thought I was.”

Fitz’s lower lip trembles slightly, and Mack knows he has to leave now or he’ll never leave at all. Brushing by the smaller man on the way out, he can’t resist turning back one more time before leaving the Playground forever.

“I hope you have a good life, Turbo.”

* * *

Fitz crumbles.


	2. Chapter 2

Mack recognizes the messy script on the envelope immediately and it hits him like a brick, because  _really_ , he hadn’t planned for this. In all of his worst-case scenarios, Mack had never anticipated that Fitz would be able to track him down, let alone that Fitz would try to contact him.

The envelope gets shoved under the towering stack of junk mail that he’s been avoiding and Mack heads out to the garage.

By the time his shift’s over and he’s made it back home the envelope is all but forgotten.

* * *

There’s another envelope addressed to Mack in that same messy scrawl the following week, but this time Mack’s off from work and there’s nothing to distract him.

It’s such a small thing. Cream paper and blue ink that’s been slightly smudged. There’s no return address, but the handwriting…

Mack loses time as he stands over the table staring down at the letter. It shouldn’t weigh so heavily on him, but the very idea of opening it… of re-establishing even the most fragile of connections to Fitz…

He shoves the envelope under the ever-growing junk mail pile and grabs a beer out of the fridge. If he’s going to mope, he might as well do it drunk.

* * *

The letters don’t stop coming.

It’s… stressful. Yeah, stressful’s the word, but he can’t bring himself to read them, can’t make himself throw them out either.

After a few months, the junk pile on the kitchen table is less junk and more unread letters from Fitz. With a weary sigh, Mack gathers each of the letters up before putting them in an empty dresser drawer.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Just because Mack’s avoiding the letters doesn’t mean he wants them gone.

* * *

Six months pass before the letters stop coming.

Mack tries not to let it worry him.

* * *

The phone’s heavy in his grip, and he keeps trying to remember that a phone call isn’t something worthy of a panic attack… but he’s spent so long distancing himself from his life in SHIELD…

“ _Mack_?”

“Heh, yeah. How’s it going, Hunter?”

_“Shit, man - I’m better now knowing that you’re alive. You alright?”  
_

The concern in Hunter’s voice is palpable, and not for the first time Mack wishes that he had done more to keep in touch.

“Yeah, I’m doing pretty good. I bought a house and opened up a garage… never thought I would say it, but life as a civilian isn’t so bad.”

Hunter snorts at that, and just like that the tension melts away.

_“Uh huh, I can see it now - white picket fence, flower boxes in the windows. Alphonso Mackenzie, civilian, mechanic, and all around good guy. You must have all the neighbors swooning when you mow the lawn - oh, God - tell me that you mow the lawn!”_

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can crack all the jokes you want - it’s no skin off my back if you don’t appreciate the finer points of domestic bliss.”

They both laugh at that, and it feels natural. It’s probably the best that Mack’s felt in awhile, but then he remembers the whole reason behind the call.

“Look, Hunter… is Fitz okay?”

There’s a heavy pause on the other line, and if Mack couldn’t hear Hunter breathing on the other line he would be worried that the line had been disconnected.

_“Fitz is fine, mate. He’d probably be better if you answered any of his letters, but he’s fine.”_

“Shit. He told you about that?” Hunter doesn’t reply, and it feels like an accusation. “Look… I _can’t_. I can’t be a dumping ground for his anger, or his disdain, or whatever else everyone thinks I deserve.”

_“Mack, no one thinks that about you. **He** doesn’t think that about you.”_

Swallowing down past the lump in his throat, Mack does his best to shut the train of thought down before it gets going - he’s come too far now to sink back into bad habits, and he’s not about to spend the rest of his life pining after someone that didn’t want him back… who wouldn’t trust him again. 

“Hey, look… it’s been good talking to you, but I gotta go. Just, do me a favor and don’t tell Fitz I asked after him, okay? I just wanted to make sure that he was alright, that’s all.”

_“Your secret is safe with me Mack, but do yourself a favor and read the letters.”_

The tone goes dead and everything hurts again. As great as it had been to speak with Hunter, Mack realizes that it probably wasn’t the wisest decision. After months of isolation, the throbbing ache is back in Mack’s chest, and he finds it difficult to get past the physicality of missing Fitz.

The Sun’s still up, but Mack closes the curtains against the day and crawls into bed. 

If anyone were to ask (not that anyone would), he would tell them that he slept well.

He certainly wouldn’t tell them about how his dreams were haunted by cream envelopes and blue, blue eyes.

* * *

Another month passes, and Mack’s only just started to relax back into his life. Without the letters coming to serve as a constant reminder it’s easy to push the memories away.

The drawer of letters stays closed, and he keeps his days busy. 

He’s building a life here. 

It’s a good life. A little lonely, but it’s good.

* * *

He’s running late. The damn alarm didn’t go off, and now he’s running late to open the garage. They’re short-staffed already, and Mack just knows that it’s going to be a crap day.

It’s only after he’s locked the door behind him that Mack realizes he’s not alone.

Shoulders tensed, prepared for an attack, Mack turns around only to have the air punched out of him in recognition. All the old hurts and all the old longing resurfaces because it’s Fitz. 

His hair’s a little longer, and he’s holding himself a little straighter, but otherwise he looks the same. There’s a tentative smile on Fitz’s face, and Mack is struck by it.

He’s the most beautiful thing that Mack’s ever seen, and Mack can’t help the panic welling up in his chest because  _this_  wasn’t supposed to happen.

* * *

“It’s good to see you, Mack.” 


	3. Chapter 3

The look of shock on Mack’s face wouldn’t be so damning if it wasn’t immediately clouded by hurt.

It’s been nearly a year since Mack walked out of the Playground and out of Fitz’s life, and as much as Fitz thought he would want to yell, or scream, or lash out at Mack, all he wants to do is apologize. At this point, Fitz couldn’t begin to guess what he had done to hurt Mack - too much time nursing old wounds had gone between them - but at the end of the day it didn’t matter if Fitz knew  _how_  he had hurt Mack. All that matters is that he fixes this.

“It’s good to see you, Mack.”

Immediately, Fitz wants to wince at how cautious and breathy he sounds, but there’s little time to be self-conscious when Mack’s standing in front of him visibly wilting. For such a large man, Mack certainly knows how to make himself small. It’s something Fitz never wants to see again.

No, the way that Mack’s shoulders hunch in and his hand reaches back to nervously rub against the back of his neck… it won’t do. Neither will the growing silence between them…

“I know that this is all rather out of the blue, but you never answered my letters, and then Hunter told me that you called, and… I missed you, Mack. Still do.”

There’s a heavy pause, and Fitz is certain that he’s going to have to fill the silence again, but then Mack’s clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders.

“I need to go open the garage. You can come, if you want, or I can get you set up in the house. We’re short-staffed today, so I can’t call out,  but I’d probably be home around 4PM if you just want to hang around the house.”

There’s a part of Fitz that wants to jump on the offer to join Mack at his garage. The idea of seeing where Mack works now, of spending time with him in the ways that they used to… it’s tempting, but there’s a more rational part of Fitz that knows they aren’t there yet. Perhaps they both need a little more time.

“I’ll wait here, if it’s alright with you.”

The tension draining from Mack’s shoulders is visible, and it hits something tender in Fitz’s heart. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea that he had ever had… but it had seemed like the best option before.

“Yeah, Fitz. That’s fine with me. I, uh… I don’t have the spare bedroom set up yet, but you can make yourself at home.”

Mack’s phone chirps with his incoming text alert - the same even after everything else has changed - and Fitz can’t stop himself from worrying his lower lip with his teeth over the way Mack’s face goes tense with annoyance before smoothing out as he lets out a heavy sigh. Silently, Fitz watches as Mack works a key off of a ring heavy with keys and multi-tools, and he finds that he would be happy to just watch Mack do  _anything_  after so much time spent apart. He’s lost in the casual grace of Mack’s hands as he pulls the key free and holds it out for Fitz to take.

“I wish I could get you settled, but I’m pretty sure that there’s an actual fire to put out at the garage. Look, I’ll be back for dinner… we can talk then, okay?”

Fitz is on autopilot as he reaches out for the key, making sure not to brush his fingers against Mack’s in the way that he wants to, keeping his eyes trained onto the key as he nods in agreement. Everything slows down as he folds his fingers around the key, and he’s halfway to turning towards the door when Mack’s hand wraps around his wrist.

It’s gentle, but the contact feels like lightning. It’s electric, and there’s a part of Fitz that could stare down at where Mack’s hand is holding him forever, but there’s another part of Fitz that knows that there’s more to this than contact for contact’s sake.

Dragging his eyes from Mack’s hands up to his face, Fitz finds himself nodding again.

“Yes, of course. We’ll talk then.”

It’s clearly what Mack was looking for because he’s letting go of Fitz at the confirmation, shouldering a thread-bare backpack over one shoulder before heading down the stairs.

They don’t wave goodbye. They don’t hug it out. They don’t do any of the things that Fitz had daydreamed about ever since Mack’s departure… instead, Mack leaves and Fitz takes a deep breath before letting himself into the house.

It’s going to be a long day.


End file.
